A Query For The Lord

Dear Lord, Follow me closeyou’ll see a brokenmind spills words adoubt I’ve spoken. I don’t deserve itan accolade fadesdown my spineto a shallow grave. I want to rip aparta coffin of comfortbecause I’ve causeda wrath unearthed. At times I look upfor attention fromyou Lord to hear no,“It will be okay son.” Control to mold Ilet…